


Their Kids' Book

by dontbecooler



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Returns, Coma, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Steve, Reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:57:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4013623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbecooler/pseuds/dontbecooler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't just any old kids' book, it was their kids' book, and if Smoky could keep Steve from dying in the winter before the war- he could bloody well help Bucky wake up after it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Their Kids' Book

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cumberperson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumberperson/gifts).



> so many notes for this little thing
> 
> so the story is Smoky The Cowhorse by Will James and you can read it here > http://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks07/0700111h.html
> 
> this thing came to me at midnight as i watched kings and i had to write it down before i could forget it just fuck me up it's like half one and i have school uggghghghgh
> 
> thank you to sortingthesockbasket for being a nitpicker butthead and fixing my oi, ilysm my baby and also kae bro you're my bro good luck for finals
> 
> So...
> 
> ENJOY XX

“ _He layed there flat on his side and breathing hard. His mammy nickered encouragement, and it wasn't long when his head was up again and his legs spraddled out all around him the same as before_.”

 

 

Steve’s voice resonated throughout the hospital, too loud, because voices always seemed a little too loud in the middle of the night, but still, he kept reading. The old novel, weathered and musty, was one he had found while searching for some clothes.

 

“You should get some rest,” Sam had suggested.

 

“You gonna think about showering?” Nat had offered.

 

“He’s still going to be there when you wake up.” They both had said.

 

 

“ _The first thing to do was to gather 'em under him and try again_.” 

 

 

They’d found him beat up in an alley. Like Steve, except he hadn’t had them on the ropes this time. Whoever had gotten him, had gotten him bad. Internal bleeding, nerves malfunctioning in his shoulder, massive head trauma...they weren’t even sure he was going to wake up. But Steve knew Bucky Barnes like no one else. If someone was going to get through this, it was him--recently escaped from HYDRA or not.

 

 

“ _Down he went the whole length of his legs, and there he layed the same as before_.”

 

 

Three weeks it’d been since they’d brought him in, and Steve had pretty much put everything else on hold. His phone was off most days, his sleeping schedule out the window, and his voice nearly raw from all the talking. First, it had just been memories. Things from Brooklyn, nice stories from the war, “Remember Buck? You showed that carnie up!”

 

Then it was things that were more hard hitting. Apologies, excuses, nightmares and torments and pleas and worries. Tears. Sobs. Nothing.

 

 

“ _His long legs tangled and untangled themselves as he run, and he was sure making speed_.”

 

 

They hadn’t had many books before the war. Not because they didn’t like to read, but more because they didn’t have the time, or that the paper was put to better use in a fire than printed on. There was one book though, one they’d found that had been kept just for reading.

 

“I mean, it ain’t that you’re heavy or nothin’, but this garbage stinks!” Bucky had said, holding Steve to keep him from falling in as he rifled around the alleyway dumpster. So Steve had fallen back out, making the older boy stumble and curse, but Steve had regained his footing, a grin splitting his grimy face and his prize in hand. 

“I knew I saw someone throw this out.” 

 

 

“ _He come out of it in fine shape though, and he was stronger than ever_.”

 

 

 _Smoky The Cowhorse._ If you asked Bucky about it at all, he’d deny its existence entirely because ‘he was too old for babies stories’. He’d shake his head, push the book into Steve’s arms, and outright say it was Steve’s and Steve’s alone, because Steve was the one who read curled up in bed. He never would have said anything about how he and Steve spent hours combing over the book, about how when they’d first read it through immediately Bucky wanted to start it again. It may have been a kids' book, but it was  _their_ kids' book.

 

And Bucky had used it as a fallback even as they grew older. He’d worn his army uniform and read his favorite chapter to Steve the day he was supposed to leave, he’d corrected Steve’s sketches of the horse while they’d been serving, he had sat and tried to remember his favorite lines to whisper to Steve just before a mission. It may have been a kids' book, but it was  _their_  kids' book. 

 

 

“ _The rest of the bunch would watch the two play and with no effort to hide how jealous they felt_.”

 

 

So Steve had gone and found it. Not their original copy--of course not--but when he’d run out of things to say and tears to cry, he had one thing to fall back on. It was an old copy, because Steve needed the smell and the used pages and the odd stain. He wouldn’t tell anyone who asked why it had been so important, because they didn’t know anything. Smoky had helped him through his own bedridden days, and they could help Bucky through his. 

 

 

“ _But Smoky wasn't as yet worried or even thought on what was to come, neither was the little whitefaced calf he was exchanging squints with_ -“ 

 

 

Steve’s voice cracked, and while he’d been doing his best to be animated and excited, he’d looked up this time and seen the expressionless face of someone who could very well forever be dozing, and he couldn’t do it. He tried a few more words,

 

 

“- _and when the critter_ -“

 

 

But he couldn’t. His voice was trembling again and he snapped the book shut, the pages not staying still enough with his jittery hands. He felt his shoulders drop, and he looked down at the cover of the book.  _Smoky The Cowhorse_ , etched in sparkly blue on a dulled fabric color, nothing like the illustrated cover they had found, but the same words. So familiar and foreign all at once and Steve was sobbing again. It had been too long… Too long and nothing was going to bring Bucky back-

 

“Hey, punk,” came a creaky, barely audible voice from the bed, and Steve’s eyes snapped up. Bucky’s eyes were open just a little, his blue irises foggy and unclear, and his chest looked like it was barely moving at all. But he was awake. “At leas’ finish the chapter ‘fore you start blubberin’.” 

 

Steve was fighting a smile, and while he wanted to jump on the bed and ask Bucky all the questions, wonder if the Winter Soldier still existed or not, he flicked open the book again and wiped his eyes, hands not shaking as much as he said.

 

 

“- _called her long-eared, split-hoofed baby to her side, Smoky just kicked up his heels, put his head down, and bucked and crowhopped all the way to where his mammy and the rest of the bunch was grazing_.”


End file.
